


This Angel Deserves Wings

by masterlynovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, some cute husband fluff, though Cas is sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlynovak/pseuds/masterlynovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While he's a human, Cas becomes sick. Very sick. Doctors say that he doesn't have long to live.</p><p>I can't summarize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Angel Deserves Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IntellectualPencil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntellectualPencil/gifts).



> I wrote this a very very long time ago for a friend (prompt: the song sleepless (I CRIED THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT)).   
> Even though I do not have the joy to ship destiel anymore, I decided to publish this fic. Enjoy??
> 
> Betad by IntellectualPencil

_Forever's a promise, it's more than just a word._

Dean strummed his guitar. He watched Castiel slowly drift off to sleep as he sang to the fallen angel. It wasn’t an actual song. It was one of Dean’s small melodies that he’d come up with a long time ago. 

Since he didn’t remember the words he just quietly hummed the melody. Cas seemed to enjoy it, though. Blissfully, the dark haired boy closed his eyes. He sighed, his breath a bit wheezy. It had been like that the past two months, since Castiel’s doctor had told them that the cancer had gotten worse. That he was destined to die soon. Since then, Dean had taken care of his lover at their home.

Cas hated the hospitals. He hated being there. He hated the harsh lights and sounds of people dying or fighting not to die. So instead he stayed home, in the baby blue room with petite, white flowers on the walls and a white duvet. His dark hair and sunburned skin was beautifully contrasted against the room, as he was usually half sitting on a large pile of white and blue pillows, always smiling.

_Please don't take him away from me, he truly is everything that I have left._

They would have visitors now and then. Sam visited at least once every other week to hold the two men company. He came with food, usually pizza or Chinese take-out, and a happy smile. It cheered the deeply sorrowed husbands’ up, not having to bear the heavy burden of the angel's death by themselves. 

That Sam was there meant that Dean could walk outside for a while, get away from the house. He hated seeing Castiel like this, weak and powerless, but he also felt like keeping an eye on him all the time. Sam being there helped him.

Cas often tried to convince his husband to sleep. But he couldn’t. He, close to never could, and when he did, he fell asleep on the hard, wooden chair next to Castiel’s bed. Always with the guitar in his hands and a string in between his thumb and index finger, his head bent forward, as if he was, even in his sleep, mourning the yet-to-come death of his loved one.

_When I picture forever, it's you here with me._

Cas opened his eyes, the white tiled ceiling was the first thing he saw, the next thing was his husband's worried, green eyes.  
If Cas didn’t know better, and still had a slight sense of humor left, he would joke about Dean looking as if he was the sick one. The guitar was, for once, not it Dean’s lap, but instead it was balancing next to the nightstand.

Deans’ face lit up as he saw Castiel open his eyes, and the dark haired man wondered, no he was afraid, that Dean had thought he was dead.

“Hmm”, Castiel sighed, tiredly raising his eyebrows.

“Hmm”, Dean agreed, sulking even more in his wooden chair.

“Do you ever get out of that chair?” Cas asked, his voice soggy and hoarse.

“Well someone’s gotta make you all that pie”, Dean grinned. Cas smiled weakly at the attempt of a joke, but his facial muscles weren’t strong enough for it to become one of his “sunshine smiles”.

“You should go back to sleep”, Dean said, leaning back on the chair.

“As should you”, Castiel mumbled.

Dean ignored the comment from his husband, and picked up his old guitar. “I’ll play you a song.”

Castiel sighed. He loved his husbands' singing and playing. But he was a lot more worried about Dean's well being right now.

He moved a bit to the left, making space for the blonde.

“Here”, he said softly. “You can sleep next to me.” 

Dean looked at him for a while, a bit unsure. When Castiel nodded as if to say “It's okay”, the hunter lifted the corner of the blanket and slipped down next to the man he loved.

He woke up sometime during the night, before sunrise, the usually warm body in his arms not breathing.

_This angel deserves his wings._

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!


End file.
